


Betas Losing Faith in Scott in Five Conversations

by 100percentfluffster



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bad Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Good Peter Hale, M/M, Sterek is off screen, Stiles Respect Juice, the pack is there for stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 04:56:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20901995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100percentfluffster/pseuds/100percentfluffster
Summary: Five conversations the betas have with Scott and five conversations the betas have with Stiles. They'll figure out who's really there for them.ORA story where Stiles is consistently supportive of the Pack and the time they're there for him.





	Betas Losing Faith in Scott in Five Conversations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katch22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katch22/gifts).

**Isaac**

Isaac watched Scott’s expression and tried to track any hints of anger there. He breathed in deeply and searched for any signs of violence in the air. “Do you want to hit me?” he asked the boy alpha. 

“What?” Scott asked. Isaac could see the edges of irritation in those puppy brown eyes. That was something he could deal with. 

“I think you should hit me,” Isaac continued. If Scott hit him maybe they could move on from this. Violence marked the climax of an argument, right? After that Scott could let go of his frustration and they’d go back to normal. 

“I mean, you didn’t kiss her, right?” Scott asked playfully but his crooked jaw was clenched. 

Isaac shook his head. “Nope, no. Of course not.” 

Scott tilted his head to the side in some form of contemplation and Isaac had to force himself not to shift under the scrutiny. “Did you want to?” 

Isaac wouldn’t lie and just the thought of Allison filled him with yearning. “Oh, hell yeah.” 

He watched in detached fascination as the familiar anger took hold of McCall. A moment later Isaac’s back hit the hallway wall and nearly knocked a picture frame off its perch. A dizzying combination of relief that it was over and disappointment that it had happened in the first place rushed through him. 

“Feel better?” Isaac groaned as he picked himself up off the ground and looked at Scott. 

Scott just gave him a grin and shrugged a little bit. “Didn’t hurt.” 

Isaac disagreed with that assessment but was happy to move on to breakfast and the rest of the day. 

_________________

“Are you mad at me?” Isaac asked in the middle of an argument in the kitchen. Stiles stopped gesturing at the broken toaster and turned to look at him in confusion. Isaac almost smiled at Stiles’ expression of indignation and puzzlement. “Do you hate me?” 

“For what, the toaster? Or the way you made fun of my relationship with Derek? Or the way you wear scarves while we’re in California?” Stiles replied dryly as he tried to fix the damage Isaac had accidentally done to the toaster. Isaac could almost taste the irritation around Stiles. The two of them didn’t always get along. They were both too quick to biting sarcasm. 

“Do you want to hit me?” Isaac asked. He felt bad for saying the things he did about Stiles not being in Derek’s league as well as for breaking the toaster when Stiles had ribbed at his non-relationship with Allison in retaliation. Both boys had gone for below the belt. 

Stiles put down the toaster to fully look at Isaac and the werewolf could not read the expression aimed at him. “Why would I want to hit you?” 

“I think you should hit me.” 

Stiles crossed his arms and leaned into the kitchen counter by his side. “No, I don’t think I should. I don’t even want to.” 

Isaac thought about digging more at Stiles’ relationship with his alpha but didn’t actually want to cause harm. Instead, he just scowled at Stiles and waited for the other boy to get with the program. One good hit and they could move on.

Stiles raised his eyebrows and sighed. “I’m not going to hit you, Isaac. And no one else should either.” 

“But you’re mad at me.” 

“Yes. You were being a dick.” 

“So you do want to hit me.” 

“No, I have no desire to.” Stiles ran a hand through his hair in aggravation. “I told Derek that shit like this would happen with this ridiculous macho culture being cultivated here.” Stiles looked at Isaac with very very serious eyes that made Isaac want to whine. “Violence is not an acceptable response to anything short of violence. I’m working with Derek on this concept as well. It’s not okay to hit me so it’s not okay to hit you.” 

“But you’re a human.” 

“And?” 

“I heal.” 

“Do you still feel pain?” 

“Yes?” Isaac was confused now. 

“Just because you heal doesn’t make it okay that any damage is done to you at all. Okay?” Isaac felt something in his gut unclench at those words. 

“Not even if I’m being a dick?” Isaac asked after a moment of contemplation. 

“Especially not then.” Stiles laid a gentle hand on Isaac’s arm, and it was so different from the pain that Isaac had been expecting earlier, that it left him dizzy. “Pack doesn’t hurt Pack, okay? I will never intentionally cause you harm, okay? And Derek is getting better about communicating his feelings in ways that don’t involve wall shoves and threats. If you ever have a problem with him, just tell him. If you have a problem with anyone else, tell me, got it?” 

Isaac thought about the way Scott had barely hesitated to throw him six feet back and into a wall. He remembered that feeling of disappointment and realized that he’d been hoping that Scott would be the one to choose to not hurt him. He almost told Stiles about Scott’s reaction but bit his tongue before he could. He didn’t want to start any trouble. 

Stiles pulled on his arm, still gentle, and led him over to the kitchen table and one of the chairs. Stiles then filled up and placed a cup of coffee in front of Isaac before moving to the stove. “No bagels for us this morning thanks to your toaster rage, but I’ll fry us some scrambled eggs,” Stiles said. 

Isaac just hummed in contentment. 

**Lydia**

“What will happen with the Pack when we all go off to college?” Lydia asked Scott after a Pack meeting about some gnomes that were spotted in the preserve. It’d been something she couldn’t stop thinking about the past couple of months. She couldn’t feel the bonds like the werewolves in the Pack but she knew they were important. Would they stretch to include them all? How often would she need to come visit? 

Scott looked at her askance and asked, “What do you mean?” 

Lydia sighed and responded, “We all graduate in a year and a half, what happens then? Do we need to do anything to prepare for that?” She liked being prepared and this was no exception. 

“No one’s leaving!” Scott replied with a dismissive wave of his hand though she could tell she had his focus, which was a surprise. 

“Of course people are leaving. Allison’s leaving for sure even if she decides not to go the college route. She can’t be a hunter living just in Beacon Hills. And Stiles is way too smart to stay in this town forever and Erica--” 

“We’re pack, Lydia, that means we stay together.” Scott looked nervous. Lydia took note of this because Scott rarely looked nervous, he was always carried through by his innate inability to see all the bad things that could happen in any circumstance. 

“I’m not staying in Beacon Hills forever, Scott,” she said with a derisive scoff. She wouldn’t let anyone drag her down from what she could be. She was going to get into the best school on the East coast and she was going to take the place by force. Her brilliance would be recognized. 

“The pack bonds won’t let you go that far away, and even if it did you have a responsibility to this town and your family.” Scott’s voice was filled with a righteousness that made her lip curl up, but there was also an undertone of desperation. 

She raised her eyebrows in consideration before she shook her head and walked out the door. She would be getting out of Beacon Hills, wouldn’t she? A small sliver of doubt crept into her mind and no matter how much she mentally scoffed at Scott, she couldn’t shake the possibility that she’d taken on a responsibility she hadn’t understood. 

____________________

“I need your help researching something,” Lydia said to Stiles a week later. She’d been unable to ignore Scott’s threats and she was exhausted of trying. 

Stiles didn’t even startle at her presence in his bedroom which said a lot about what company he’d gotten used to sharing. He made one last mark on the paper he was writing on and turned his computer chair around in a flurry of limbs to look earnestly at her. “Watcha got?” 

Lydia sat primly on the edge of his bed and laid her hands in her lap. “Scott said that the Pack bonds won’t let me leave Beacon Hills,” she said succinctly. She would not be going into her fears. She just needed information, that was all. 

Stiles just scoffed and replied, “Scott doesn’t know shit about Pack bonds, Lyds, don’t worry. Besides, did you really think I would let anything stop you from getting that Fields Medal?” 

His confidence in her was heartwarming, his confidence in her ability to leave was even more appreciated. “How can you be sure?” 

“A lot of reasons. First, that’d be super impractical, Pack bonds aren’t collars around our necks. Second, I’ve spent a lot of time talking to Peter about the bonds and distance doesn’t affect them. I mean, yeah it can weaken them if you go months and months and months without seeing them but those things can be minimalized. Third, if you want a practical show of the Pack bonds, Peter left the country to get his bachelors degree and he was still Talia’s Left Hand the entire time. Laura left to New York to get her degree and she never left the Pack bond.” 

Of course. She knew Laura had gone to NYU for her business degree, Derek had mentioned the school during one of Stiles and Lydia’s debates about universities worth their time. It was such a simple proof of her ability to leave. 

“And Lydia,” Stiles continued with a somberness to his voice that immediately grabbed her attention, “the Pack isn’t here to hold you back. We’re here to support you as family does.” 

Her mouth had gone a little dry at the expression on Stiles’ face, one of utter belief and devotion. An expression she’d seen time and time again but so rarely focused entirely on her. “We should be prepared for the sudden separation of our Pack considering we’re all around the same age,” she said, but the small smile she sent him was more than enough for both of them. 

He grinned and nodded, “I’ve been thinking about that, and again brainstorm sessions with ZombieWolf and SourWolf. Scent therapy and rigorous skype schedules and visitation cycles. It’ll be fine. Maybe it’ll suck and we’ll feel the Pack bonds stretching but we’re strong enough to deal with it. Besides, I think most of us will end up paired up. I mean you and me are going East and Allison is talking about France and Jackson about Europe, so they could team up and--” 

Lydia listened to Stiles and his obvious preparedness and smiled. She was relieved and grateful for the boy before her who held the intent of Pack so closely to his heart. Sometimes Pack seemed like an alien concept to her and other times it felt innate and a part of her. She wondered how much Stiles affected that, but then she realized she already knew the answer to that.    
  


**Erica**

Erica had been trying to find Scott for a couple days now. She’d had another seizure and she was scared. Terrified really. She took the bite from Derek so she could get away from the epilepsy that defined every part of her life. She’d thought she’d found the cure. It came with a lot of downsides but also some good things. 

But now the seizures were back. Not many, just a couple, but she didn’t want to think of her life returning to what it was before. She couldn’t imagine being stuck in her house again, forbidden from leaving due to fear of hurting herself. 

Scott was busy though, constantly ducking out on her when she needed to talk to him. He merely said he was busy and told her to not be selfish. She didn’t think she was being selfish. Not really. She just wanted someone to help her figure out what was happening and Scott was the Alpha, right? That was his job. 

When she did finally manage to get him alone and to hold still for a few minutes she told him of the couple of seizures that had turned her world upside down again. 

“It was just a couple, right? And they weren’t as bad as normal?” Scott asked immediately after she stopped talking. 

“Yes?” she replied. 

“I wouldn’t worry about it then, Erica. I’m sure it’s just the bite taking hold or something.” 

Erica bit her lip and shook her head. She hadn’t felt this uncertain in a long time. “I don’t think so. I got the bite months ago and--” 

“Look, Erica,” Scott interrupted. “We’re werewolves. There’s nothing to worry about. I’m sure it’ll go away in time. I’ve gotta go, Allison called me like fifteen minutes ago and I hate to keep her waiting, you know?” 

Then he was gone. Moving away from her like he always was. Erica stood where she was for a long time just trying to keep the panic at bay. Scott could be right. Maybe. But what if he wasn’t? 

__________________

Erica didn’t go looking for Stiles but he found her anyway. She’d had another seizure yesterday, the third since she’d turned. She was still in shock whether it be perceived or actual, collapsed against the couch where Boyd had left her just hours ago so he could go to school. 

Stiles found her like that and she looked up only when he was standing directly in front of her. “What?” she snarled. 

“Boyd said you had another seizure. I didn’t know you’d even had two before?” Stiles asked softly. He sat down on the floor in front of her and tilted his head back to look into her face. 

“So sorry to disappoint,” she bit out, her anger and grief and frustration made her nauseous. 

“You’re not a disappointment, Erica. Though I suspect you’re dealing with a lot of it.” He paused just long enough to spread his legs out into a less uncomfortable position. “When my mom was sick, there wasn’t a lot we could do for her. No medicine that made it go away. No cure. But there were things that could make her feel better. Could lessen the symptoms.” 

“Like hospice care? You buttering me up to die?” 

Stiles grimaced and shook his head. “No, but I know that cure-alls don’t exist. I was wary that the bite would just make your epilepsy disappear. But your werewolf anatomy makes human medicines most likely null. So I was thinking we could try some other things.” 

“Like what? Shamans and miracles?” 

“I want to cook for you, no more of this werewolf perfect metabolism bullshit. I want you to track your symptoms closely and I want you to come to me for help. I talked to Danny and he can get you an emergency broadcast bracelet that can let me and Derek know when you need medical help. That way we can all feel safe letting you out on your own without forcing you to stay anywhere. Peter and I are currently tracking down a doctor that’s in the supernatural know to take a look at you. Derek can cover the costs.” 

Erica looked down at Stiles and felt something in her settle down and snap back into place. 

“The worst thing we can do right now is ignore the signs in front of us and hope for the best. I don’t want you to get hurt but I also don’t want you to think that everything is going back to the way it was. I know how frustrating it can be to feel weak. That’s what the Pack is for though. To help each other out.” 

Stiles pulled out a small leather bound journal out of his back pocket and handed it to her. “From now on I want you to write down the time and date of any seizures or episodes you have. Make note of any other symptoms like muscle rigor or headaches or dizziness. Shortness of breath. Anything. If we can find the pattern we can help a lot more.” 

Erica felt hot familiar tears fall down her cheeks tracing the already raw tracks the ones from earlier had left. “Thank you, Stiles,” she said as she took the journal. She was familiar with tracking symptoms, she’d done it all her life. She could do it again. Because things had changed, she had Pack now and they’d help. That was more than enough. 

**Boyd**

Boyd loved Erica. He really did. 

Erica was passionate and full of life. She was sassy and confident and ready for adventure. 

She was also volatile at times. She could swing between emotional extremes faster than Boyd could identify one of his own emotions. It left him reeling sometimes but that was okay. He could deal with that, he could help with that, he loved Erica. The problem came when he used her as his anchor. Her constantly shifting mental state played havoc on his control. He’d feel calm and in control one minute only for Erica to go flying into a rage and then it was all he could do to keep everything under wraps. He knew it wasn’t her fault, she was just highly emotional. He didn’t want her to change he just didn’t know what to do. 

“I’m having problems with control,” Boyd said to Scott one morning. He needed help and Scott was the one who had found his anchor first. 

“You and Erica break up?” Scott asked in surprise. 

“What? No, of course not.” 

“Then what’s the problem? You love her right? You just need to keep hold of that. Tie yourself to it and don’t let go.” 

“It’s not working. I can feel Erica through the Pack bond and since I’m using her as an anchor all her emotions feel like a live wire and having that echo through me while I’m trying to remember to not snarl at someone is stressful.” 

Scott frowned and asked, “Are you sure you and Erica are okay?” 

“Yeah, we’re fine. She’s just not a super stable personality so it’s hard to tether to that.” 

“I think you should talk to Erica about this, not me. She’s your anchor. Just hold on to that.” Scott gave him an earnest if impatient grin and laid a warm hand on Boyd’s thick shoulder. “I hope everything works out between you two, you’re a great couple.” 

Scott left and Boyd felt like he’d just a conversation with a bouncy ball or a brick wall. 

____________________

Boyd didn’t remember how he’d even gotten into the conversation but Stiles was looking at him earnestly and with an unnatural focus. Stiles tended to do that; when he focused he  _ really _ focused. Boyd figured it had to do with his ADHD. 

“I don’t care what Scott and the Hales say. You can’t have a single person as an anchor. It’s bound to end in tears and failure.” 

“But I thought you were the one who helped Scott find his anchor in Allison?” Boyd asked. 

Stiles scoffed and shook his head. “No, I helped him understand that his heart rate and emotions were linked with his control. I ran him through exercises until he could reliably calm himself down. It was Scott’s brilliant idea to ‘anchor’ himself to a girl he’d just met.” 

Boyd rarely heard Stiles criticize Scott so baldly. It was both off-putting and riveting. “Why do you think it’s bad? Anchoring on someone, I mean.” 

“A lot of reasons. I think it puts way too much pressure on the person who’s supposed to be anchoring you and I think it’s foolish to focus on something so small. Not all relationships are always good all the time. Sometimes relationships even end. What then? Your anchor would be unmoored and you’ll sink.” 

“That’s not what anchors do, Stiles.” 

Stiles waved it away. “You can’t use Erica as an anchor. She’s not cut out for it and it’s just going to stress her out more. She doesn’t need to tone down her emotions and asking her to would be unfair.” 

Boyd nodded and replied, “I agree. I don’t want her to change, but she makes me lose control.” 

“So stop using her as an anchor.” 

“So what should I use?” 

“Use the Pack. Not just one person like Erica. Use our connection to each other, the Pack’s strength and bonds. The feeling of family and stability. That’s what you really need. Stability. Erica is stable in her own way but you need to be stable in yours.” 

“How do you know so much about anchors?” Boyd asked, curious and perhaps slightly skeptical. 

“I may not be a werewolf but using something like an anchor to keep yourself stable in a storm isn’t a new concept.” Stiles paused and looked at Boyd as if trying to figure out if he should say what was on his mind. Boyd lifted a silent brow in encouragement and Stiles sighed before he continued talking, “When I lost my mother I clung to my father. But he couldn’t hold it all for both of us, he couldn’t even hold it all for himself. So instead I turned to Scott and Melissa and my grandparents. I clung to the knowledge that they’d be there even when my mom wasn’t.” Stiles looked to the side and asked in a hurry like he was going to get in trouble, “When your sister went missing what did you do?” 

A familiar grief swept over him and Boyd unconsciously thought of his mother. Of the family friends that had come to help look. He’d needed them and they’d helped even if they couldn't fix it all. “I thought of family,” Boyd said roughly after a few silent moments of shared grief between them. 

Stiles smiled though it was weak and wobbly. “Exactly. Let the Pack anchor you, that’s what it’s for, right?” 

  
  


**Jackson**

Jackson was furious. Not a strange state of being for him but still exhausting. Everything in his life had changed so quickly and so completely that sometimes he couldn’t do anything but scream. And now even lacrosse was being affected. The sport was the only thing he was genuinely good at in his life. He wasn’t overly academic, wasn’t clever, wasn’t nice. But lacrosse he understood and he kicked ass. But now with the supernatural power up it didn’t feel the same. He didn’t like holding back even if it did mean he won every game. He felt like he was grasping at straws every time he was on the field. Desperate to find that same fulfillment he’d found on the grass before. 

“I’m so sick of this shit!” Jackson cried as he slammed the locker in the changing room shut. The small locker room echoed the sound back at him and it hurt his supernaturally sensitive ears. Finstock had made Scott and him run drills for an extra hour after practice, the man had been gleeful as he’d talked about the upcoming championship game, but Jackson had just felt vaguely irritated at the thought.

Scott, the only other person in the room, looked over at him in shock that melted away into understanding. “I get it,” Scott said lowly. Jackson growled in annoyance at the sentiment but Scott didn’t seem to notice. 

“Ever since Stiles dragged me out to the woods and got me turned everything’s been a shit show, but lacrosse was the one good thing that came out of it.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Jackson asked. He could feel his eyes flashing blue but he kept himself looking at the locker so Scott wouldn’t notice. He didn’t want another lecture on proper anchorship. 

“I hate being not human. I hate what it’s made of my life, but I will not allow it to take away anything else.” 

“What have you lost, Scott? You’ve gained literally everything!” Jackson shouted. He grabbed his shirt and in his rush to get it on managed to rip a hole in the side of it. He breathed deeply and tried to ignore the building need to scream. Or perhaps roar. 

“I just want to be human!” Scott complained. 

Jackson didn’t understand how he’d ended up having this conversation.

“Lacrosse is the only normal thing left to me!” Scott continued on. 

Jackson wanted to point out that lacrosse hadn't been part of Scott’s life before, or at least not first line. Jackson could tell that no matter what happened in this conversation it wouldn’t be about anything helpful. It’d be about Scott like it always was when it came to the Alpha. He didn’t have time for that. He walked out of the room with a scoff and didn’t look back. He felt a pang of something out in the parking lot when he realized he’d forgotten his lacrosse stick in his locker, but then he shrugged it away. It wasn’t like he needed to practice anymore anyway. It made him want to scream all over again. 

**____________________**

It was the night of the championship game and Jackson felt like doing anything but playing. He could hear the cheering from the crowd outside on the field but couldn’t make himself move from the bench he was sat on in the locker room. He knew someone would come for him eventually but he pushed that thought away too. He was too tired. Too tired of this  _ show _ he was putting on. The attention didn’t feel right anymore. Didn’t feel real. 

It was Stiles who found him. Jackson was surprised by both his presence and how quiet he was as he entered the room. Stiles sat across from him on a different matching bench. “Lydia wanted to come and talk to you, but I think I’m the better option.” 

“In what world would you be the better option, Stiles?” Jackson jeered but was a bit relieved. Lydia would have demanded he get up and go out, and he would have, but it wasn’t what he wanted right now. 

“Because I think I know what the problem is.” 

“Fuck off, Stilinski.” 

There was a long pause where Jackson expected Stiles to either leave or flail about and descend into one of his sarcastic speeches. That’s what usually happened between the two of them. “Lacrosse isn’t who you are, you know that, right?” 

Jackson froze at the words and he was grateful that Stiles wasn’t a were and therefore couldn’t hear the way his heart suddenly started racing. “I’m Jackson Whittemore,” Jackson replied. He’d intended to fill the phrase with disdain, perhaps mention how many times he could purchase Stiles’ home or Jeep without worry. Instead, it came out empty. 

“Lacrosse star?” 

Jackson growled and slammed his lacrosse stick into the bench with a satisfying bang. “Could beat anyone out on that field with my eyes blindfolded, even your bestie wolf Scott.” 

“No doubt,” Stiles replied and Jackson fought the urge to look over at him even as the admittance of his skill made something warm up inside him. Instead, he scoffed and looked at his shoes. “No doubt this championship game is yours. Half of our school team is supernaturally enhanced, it’s kind of a give in. But that’s the problem, isn’t it?” 

“Can you get to the point, Stiles?” Jackson suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here, but he couldn’t seem to make himself move. 

“Scott couldn’t play lacrosse if his life depended on it, before the bite that is. Now he’s a pro. You spent a lot of time becoming good at lacrosse and now…” 

“Now it’s nothing but a game.” Jackson closed his eyes and hated the way that they stung behind his eyelids. “Now it means nothing.” 

“Who cares?” Stiles asked with a purposeful lightness to his voice. 

Jackson looked up to glare at him. “Fuck off!” 

“No, really, Jackson. Lacrosse didn’t make you who you are and it’s certainly not going to make you who you are now. You didn’t need lacrosse to prove yourself to anyone, and now that it’s more a game than ever, you still don’t need it. Just use it to spend time with Danny and your friends. Goof off. Have fun. Maybe you can start appreciating parts of the game you couldn’t before.” 

“You mean I should enjoy it more now that it means nothing?” 

“Yeah! Don’t see it as a loss of your identity, because it didn’t and still shouldn’t mean your self-worth, and start seeing it as an outlet.” Stiles stood up and moved back to the door. He paused before he walked through it, “You spent a lot of time with lacrosse being your purpose, for whatever reason. It doesn’t have to be anymore. And if you need help finding something new to conquer, we can help you find that too. That’s what Pack is for, right?” 

Stiles left and Jackson was left alone once again, the distant cheering still loud but not as pressing as before. Stiles was right, of course. Lacrosse had been what Jackson had built his entire self worth on. He was lacrosse captain and everything else was just extra. Lacrosse wasn’t the same but neither was he, was he? Maybe he could find something new to focus on. Something just as rewarding and challenging as lacrosse had been before the power up. He stood up and made his way to the field with a new determination in his step.

He laughed as Danny passed him the ball and he tossed it into the net with no effort. It was just a game. His life held so much more now. He looked at Lydia in the stands and smiled a smile she hadn’t seen in months. She smiled back and mentally thanked Stiles. 

**Stiles**

Stiles knew there were certain expectations of him, many of which he himself had helped put in place, that he now greatly struggled with. Despite his apparent physical fragility he'd become a protector figure of the Pack. He identified threats before they could fully manifest, he carried a bat made of mistletoe and ingrained with mountain ash, he had several supernatural contacts on speed dial. He was the liaison between the Pack and the police. Of everyone, but Peter, he was the member of the Pack with the most blood on his hands. There was nothing he wouldn't do to protect the people who relied on him. On his Pack. 

But using his supposed 'spark' for anything larger than making rings of mountain ash left him feeling nauseous and with a hissing voice of something long dead in his thoughts. His skin would itch for hours afterwards and he'd be counting everything around him when he ran out of fingers. The truth was that after the Nogitsune that small well of magical power inside him felt tainted and cursed and not at all a part of him but instead a part of the fox that had taken his body and mind. 

So it was understandable that anytime he heard the word emissary his thoughts stuttered to a stop and every muscle in his body begged to run. Stiles didn't want to lose control again. He'd rather die then get stuck in that chasm between consciousness and comatose. He still trembled at the sight of chess pieces and sharp teeth. Still felt the breath of paranoia on the back of his neck and half formed memories of plans he didn't make. 

He felt that slimy panic close in on his throat like teeth on his jugular when Scott said, "Deaton said my alpha power will get another boost when Stiles becomes my emissary." Stiles didn’t even know where that particular conversation train had come from, he’d been so focused on the research in front of him. 

Stiles didn't hear the rest of the discussion between Scott and Allison. He forgot the rest of the Pack around him as he began to wonder how long he could drag this whole thing out, postponing emissary training and avoiding Scott's expectations. Goosebumps spread across his skin and made his body feel too tight. Like it wasn't all his. He wished desperately that Derek hadn’t left yesterday with Peter to visit their lawyer in New York.

Lydia’s voice interrupted his thoughts. "Stiles has been accepted to several universities in Massachusetts and New York. Though, of course, I've told him Massachusetts is the better fit considering the price, location, and proximity to me at MIT, but it's  _ his choice _ ."

Stiles was surprised by the blunt accusation in her words before he realized that she'd very obviously picked up on his discomfort. Most likely well before today because it was Lydia, of course she had. He sent a panicked glance in Scott's direction and found his best friend looking both flummoxed and annoyed. "Stiles is going to be my emissary, Lydia. That’s already decided.” 

Jackson scoffed and subtly angled his body in front of Stiles, who was sitting on the couch with Lydia. “Stiles is more than just his spark,  _ alpha _ ,” Jackson sneered his way through the title in a way that made even Stiles wince, though he was pleasantly surprised that Jackson would so obviously stand up for him.

Scott’s eyes flashed red and he stood up from the chair he and Allison had been sharing. “I know that, Whittemore. He’s my best friend, not yours!” 

“We’re all Pack, McCall!” 

“I know that! Stiles is pack and he wants to contribute to the pack!” 

“You don’t get to decide how he does that, though!” 

Stiles was distracted from the rest of the conversation by Erica sidling up next to him on the couch and looking intently at him. Stiles squirmed under the scrutiny and was just about to ask her what she needed when she leaned forward to whisper, “I was going to bring this up soon, but now seems like the time to say it.” She paused and Stiles glanced back over at Jackson and Scott who were getting closer to each other and arguing about ‘controlling alphas’. 

“It’s clear that you’re still struggling with your magic,” Erica said in his ear. 

Stiles jerked back around to look at her. “What?”

“I can see the symptoms, Batman.” She smiled and gave him a wink he didn’t fully understand the meaning of. “You get withdrawn and pale when Scott or Deaton mention you using your ‘abilities’. Lydia told me you count your fingers still, and Boyd said the other day that you were spacing out in conversations more and more often.” 

“That’s not true!” Stiles tried to deny but it fell flat between them. 

“I don’t know what I can do to help you right now, but if there’s anything I can do to help you through whatever hang ups you have, I’m here and more than willing to do it. I can’t be Catwoman without a Batman, Stiles.” Erica didn’t wait for Stiles to answer or nod or even blink, she just stood up and flounced over to Boyd to sit in his lap. She gave Stiles another wink and Stiles blinked and tried to focus back in on the conversations around him rather than the sudden realization that maybe his discomfort wasn’t as hidden as he thought. Maybe Scott was the only one who hadn’t picked up on it… 

“Your constant questioning of my authority is unacceptable, Jackson!” Scott screamed and shoved Jackson in the chest. Werewolf strength vs. werewolf strength meant that Jackson only stumbled a few steps back but the sound of the impact of Scott’s hands into Jackson’s skin was loud and made Stiles wince. It reminded him of when Derek had first threatened him. Made him think of how far Derek had come now, how far the Pack had come and grown together, or at least most of them. 

Isaac growled behind Stiles and Scott's now constantly red eyes flew over to his other beta. “Pack doesn’t hurt Pack, Scott.” 

Scott’s eyes actually flickered back to their normal brown in his obvious confusion. “I didn’t hurt him?” 

Stiles watched Jackson roll his eyes and walked away from Scott and behind the couch to hover over Lydia. Stiles felt Lydia’s hand slip into his as Isaac said, “Force shouldn’t be used in a discussion between friends or family, no matter the circumstance.” 

Scott only looked even more confused and Stiles was both amused and proud. “Did you just recite that from a book?” Stiles asked as he grinned at Isaac to make sure the sarcastic comment didn’t hold too much bite. 

Isaac blushed and ducked his head down, “I borrowed the book from Derek.” 

Stiles paused for a moment to digest that mumbled statement and then broke into a huge grin that almost hurt his mouth. “Oh my god, Isaac, that’s amazing!” Isaac blushed harder and immediately started to back away from the room and into the kitchen. Stiles just shouted out, “I’m so proud of you burly werewolves learning to use your words!” 

Isaac made a sound similar to a cat that Stiles had stepped on when he was a kid and Stiles and Lydia both exchanged a quick glance before giggling in unison. When he looked up and caught the confusion on Scott’s face, Stiles just giggled harder. Unfortunately that brought Scott’s attention back around to Stiles. 

“You want to be my emissary right, bro?” Scott asked with that crinkled up puppy face that had gotten him so much in the past. From Stiles and from everyone around the alpha. 

Stiles could feel Lydia’s glare from next to him and he swallowed harshly, unsure if he looked whether the gaze would be centered on him or Scott. Stiles fiddled with the papers in his hand, the one not being held in Lydia’s own, and looked down at the highlighted lines in front of him. He didn’t know how to answer that. He wanted to help his Pack, he wanted to protect them, but he didn’t want to do it like that. Didn’t want to be taught by Deaton to use something that made every cell in his body rebel against him. 

“I don’t know, Scotty,” Stiles mumbled. 

“What was that?” Scott demanded, and Stiles knew it wasn’t because he couldn’t hear him.

Stiles looked up at his friend and found only an angered self-righteousness. “I--” Stiles didn’t know what to say to fix this. He remembered the way Scott’s blood felt on his hands and shuddered. Stiles remembered the fear in Allison’s eyes and the scream of Lydia in his ear. All he could process was the overpowering need to count his fingers. Was all this even real?

“Center yourself, Stiles,” a deep voice said. Strong fingers wrapped around his own, when had he even let go of Lydia? “Use the Pack to anchor yourself, just like you taught me. We’re here for you.” 

Stiles recognized the voice and he knew his friends were around him, his Pack was here to support him, he knew it. The Nogitsune was gone, he was in control of himself. He was. 

“Boyd?” Stiles asked, locking watering eyes with the dark skinned werewolf in front of him. Boyd was kneeled down on the floor in front of the couch, holding Stiles’ hand in his own larger ones. 

Boyd didn’t answer, just smiled and tapped Stiles’ chest with a very gentle finger. Stiles knew the meaning behind the gesture and he closed his eyes to focus on the Pack bond that he could barely feel as a human, but still found comfort in. 

“I don’t want to be an emissary, Scott.” 

There was only silence to his proclamation. Stiles looked up and found Scott looking at him with irritation but nothing more. “Of course you do, Stiles."

Stiles heard both Jackson and Isaac growl, though Isaac's was quite a bit quieter as he hadn't emerged from the kitchen yet. The support made Stiles smile and he took a deep breath as he looked at the friends around him. His Pack. They'd have his back no matter what he chose. He looked back at Scott and wondered when his supposed best friend had gotten so out of touch with him, and with everyone else. 

"I don't want to be your emissary, Scott. I don't want to use magic or train with Deaton. I just want to be part of the Pack the way it is now."

Stiles braced himself for Scott's inevitable shouting but felt only an indomitable feeling of belonging and certainty in the Pack bonds in his chest. Maybe Scott wasn't the best person to lead this Pack. 

Stiles' Pack was close and looked out for each other, made time for each other, never raised a hand to each other. Scott had already shown he didn't respect those rules. Stiles looked Scott in the eye and thought maybe it was time for a change. He stood up and felt Lydia stand with him. Boyd slunk over to Erica who was eyeing Scott up speculatively. Jackson moved around the couch to stand next to Lydia and Isaac appeared at Stiles' elbow without a sound. 

Yeah, Stiles could help his Pack without resorting to his spark and they knew it. Pack was there for Pack. Always. 

Now what was Scott? 

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know if you caught the little thing I did for the word Pack! :)   
Thanks for reading, we all need more Stiles support and appreciation in our lives.


End file.
